His After-Hours Mistress(15)

It wasn't easy to sleep, and she tossed and turned for some time before  her exhausted body gave up the struggle and she slept. Roarke tucked his  hand under the pillow and studied the moonlight on the ceiling. On the  bedside table her travel clock slowly ticked on.



Ginny was dreaming. It was a dream she hadn't had for a long time, but  it was no less powerful for all that. It was not a pleasant dream, but  good dreams rarely returned to haunt a person. She was caught in the  past, trapped by memories that came thick and fast. Unable to break  free, she tossed and turned restlessly.

The nightmare was always the same. It was night, but she dared not put  the light on, for the landlord of the grotty bedsit she called home was  due to call to collect the rent and she didn't have the money. She had a  job washing dishes-it paid little, but it was all she could get. She  had been sick all through her pregnancy, and it had lost her the few  better paid jobs she had managed to get. Now her boss had threatened to  fire her if she was late again-and she was late already …

The scene changed. Now she was standing outside the cheap restaurant,  with the manager telling her to clear off. She tried to plead with him,  but he didn't want to know. She had to turn, had to take the next step.  Anxiety began to rise in her, and her head thrashed about on the pillow.  She didn't want to go on, but the dream was remorseless. It took her  back down that dingy street as she made her way home. As always, she  didn't hear the approach of the person who jumped her, just felt a shove  in the back and hands grabbing for her bag. Beneath the covers her legs  and arms thrashed about as, in her dream, she fought him, hanging on to  the bag, for it contained all the money she had. But her pregnancy had  made her clumsy and weak, and with one last shove he had got the bag and  run.

She cried out, but it didn't wake her, and for the hundredth time she  careered into the heavy-duty bins and fell to the floor of the alleyway.  And, as night followed day, there came the pains, making her groan in  her sleep. In her dream she called for help, but nobody came, and she  lay there in the dark, in pain, knowing her baby was coming and that she  had to try to help herself. Tears streamed down her face as somehow she  managed to get to her knees and crawl out to the road. Then more pain  and she collapsed, and she knew she was going to lose her baby …

Dragged from an uneasy sleep, Roarke lay on the couch and tried to get  his bearings. Then he heard sounds from across the room and sat up,  glancing to the bed Ginny occupied. He could just make out the thrashing  movements beneath the covers, and it was closely followed by a sound  that turned his blood cold. Ginny was crying. Painful sobs that tore  into the very heart of him and brought him to his feet in a hurry.                       
       
           



       

Padding to the bed, he stared down at her, knowing she wouldn't want him  anywhere near her, but knowing too that he couldn't leave her trapped  in the midst of the despairing dream she was having. Easing himself on  to the edge of the bed, he reached out to gently shake her awake.

'Wake up, Ginny. Ginny, can you hear me? It's a dream. Come on, sweetheart, snap out of it!'

Ginny heard a voice calling her from a long way away. An insistent voice  that dragged her out of the depths of her nightmare, leaving the pain  behind but not the sense of loss. She felt hands lifting her, shaking  her, and with a ragged gasp she woke.

She blinked at the figure who sat on the bed, holding her by the shoulders. 'Roarke?'

'You were crying in your sleep. Must have been a very bad dream.' He  explained his presence, eyes quartering her face in concern.

Ginny touched her hand to her cheeks and they came away moist. 'Oh,  God!' she whispered achingly. She knew what dream it had been; the  tendrils of it came drifting back, coiling around her heart, making her  shiver in remembrance. 'Did I wake you? I'm sorry. I should have known … '

Releasing her now that she was awake, Roarke sat back. 'Known what? That  seeing your father again would bring the memories back?'

She nodded, not really surprised by his astuteness. 'I haven't had that  one in a while.' She had been hoping she would never have it again, but  she should have known better.

'Was it about your father?'

Ginny rubbed her hands over her arms, warding off a chill that came more from inside than out. 'Not really.'

Indirectly, her father's refusal to help her had set her along a path  which had ultimately led to the loss of her baby, but she wouldn't put  the blood on his hands.

'Do you want to talk about it?' Roarke offered. 'I've been told I'm a very good listener.'

Ginny shook her head in swift refusal. 'No. I don't even want to think about it.'

He accepted that without argument. 'Can I get you anything? Hot milk? Chocolate?'

'I'll be fine,' Ginny declared confidently, though she knew from  experience that she wouldn't be. Whenever she had had the dream before,  sleeping afterwards had been impossible. But she wasn't his problem. She  would deal with it. She had always dealt with it.

'OK, but you know where I am if you need me,' he told her as he got off the bed.

Ginny lay back against her pillows and listened to the sound of Roarke  returning to his bed on the couch. She tried to keep her breathing light  and did her best not to move about too much, wanting him to go back to  sleep. Time passed slowly, but eventually she was sure he must no longer  be awake, so she sat up, plumping the pillows behind her and stared out  of the window, watching for a sign that would tell her dawn was  approaching.

'What's the matter, Ginny?'

The disembodied voice drifting to her from the couch made her jump. 'I thought you were asleep.'

'I was waiting for you to drop off. At this rate, it looks as if neither  of us will get any more sleep tonight,' he remarked without rancour.

The last thing she wanted to do was disturb anyone other than herself.  'Don't let me keep you awake,' she urged him, but should have known  better by now.

'Ginny, you can't expect me to turn over and start knocking out zeds when I know darn well you're afraid to sleep.'

Her heart leapt into her throat at his intuition. 'I'm not … ' she began,  but the rest of the sentence trailed off, because it was a lie and they  both knew it. 'You're right, I am scared. I know from experience that if  I sleep now I'll only have the dream again. Once is enough for any  night,' she added with a shudder.

'What's it about, this dream?'

Ginny pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them protectively. 'The worst day of my life,' she admitted scratchily.

'I guess that would have to be the time you lost your baby,' Roarke stated softly, not wanting her to draw back into her shell.

She was getting used to him pulling rabbits out of the hat this way. 'You guessed correctly.'

'Have you ever spoken to anyone about that time?' Roarke probed carefully.

Ginny shook her head, then, realising he couldn't see the gesture,  cleared her throat. 'No.' Who had there been to talk to? Her family had  been denied her, and her old friends had drifted away into their own  lives.

'Talking helps, Ginny. Keeping it locked up inside yourself is asking for bad dreams to come.'

She knew he was right. The past was festering inside her, never healing.  She had to get it out in the open for her own sake. He wasn't the  person she would have chosen to talk to, but he knew so much already  there seemed little point in hiding the rest.                       
       
           



       

'How good a listener are you?' she asked wryly.

'The best. I don't judge, and I don't tell tales. Try me.'

Ginny sighed heavily. 'Where do I begin? My life had become such a mess  by then. The start of it all was when I left with Mark. Nothing went  right from then on.'

'Except the baby,' Roarke corrected evenly, and she smiled faintly.

'You're right. Except the baby. I wanted her. I was prepared to move  mountains to give her what I had missed.' Her smile faded away. 'The day  I discovered I was pregnant was the day Mark left me. He never knew  about the baby. My father had cut me off, and Mark saw his meal ticket  slipping out of his grasp. I didn't know at the time, but he had gone to  see the Brigadier, to try and get him to change his mind. I could have  told him it wouldn't work. He said no, and a week later Mark  disappeared. Whilst I was waiting for hours for him to come home so I  could tell him about the baby, he was miles away cutting his losses.'

Roarke made himself comfortable with his hands behind his head,  listening to the flat voice tell its tale. 'You never saw him again?'

'I had no idea where to look. He told me very little about himself.  Besides, when the bills that he had run up started to come in, I fell  out of love very quickly. It wasn't hard to decide to bring up my baby  on my own, but from the start things were against me. I had an awful  pregnancy. The sickness they told me would eventually stop, never did. I  lost I don't know how many jobs because the sickness prevented me from  working. Money became tight.'